


Howl, the Moon!

by Zerrat



Category: Final Fantasy IV, Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, F/F, F/M, FF/FF AU, Femslash, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerrat/pseuds/Zerrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reports of a raging red horde threatens Mysidia. A Paladin, and Dragoon and a Dark Knight lead the Red Wings east, to settle the score and find out what this whole ‘Lunar Howl’ business really means. FFIV AU, post-The After Years.</p><p>Abandoned, potentially to be rewritten and replotted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Captain of the Red Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler Warning: Contains characterization spoilers for FFXIII (Lightning, Serah, Snow, Fang), spoilers for the world and characters of FFIV and its sequel, The After Years.
> 
> Warnings for Whole Story – will contain spoilers: Blanket warning – I’m not going to specifically warn for anything that’s fair game in the Final Fantasy games. This will include death, mind control, coercion, injury, extreme violence, and whack meta-magic. Angst, hatred, mortality and darkness is also a given – especially in the last half of the story.
> 
> Notes: Takes place thirty years after the end of the FFIV sequel, The After Years. Fusing two of my favourite Final Fantasy games was an interesting thing for me. It all started when I wondered how Fang would be in the FFIV world, and was meant to be a one-shot amongst a LOT of other ones.
> 
> Really started plotting it out when the fang_lightning comm. ended up having the monthly theme of Lunar Light. So obviously I connected that theme to this fic and struck gold.

The smooth, stone halls of Baron Castle were bustling with servants, civilians, castle guards and the odd Red Wings warrior, as Snow Villiers made his way towards the throne room. The summons parchment was crumpled up in his gauntleted hand. For the life of him, he could not figure out why the King would wish to see him, so soon after his last mission report. The patrols had been clear, Baron’s borders were secure and there was little sign of trouble. The Red Wings had only just returned home! And Snow, he had only had time to snatch a brief moment with his love.

Perhaps he’d screwed up again – Snow pushed the thought away forcefully. The patrols had gone of without a hitch, and he couldn’t imagine why any of the Red Wings would have had an issue with the way things had gone down.

Snow settled his shoulders, and cracked his knuckles as he strode through the hallways. No point in thinking about it. Nothing for it, but to see what the King was after. Hopefully he wouldn’t screw up the audience – not like _last_ time. He winced as he recalled the mess he’d made of it all. He wasn’t sure why that rack of spears had been there, of all places, but it sure hadn’t been a good idea to have them in the throne room like that. Anybody could have tripped over them!

Well, except for maybe his lieutenant, but she was a whole ‘nother league above him.

The wide, oak doors leading to the King’s throne room and beyond, were guarded by a small squad of castle guards. They looked up and saluted Snow as he approached, and he awkwardly raised a hand in recognition of their salute. Leviathan’s beard, he was never going to get used to all this weird-ass saluting – it had been fine when it had been at old Lord Captain Highwind, but _dude._ He’d seriously have to do something about all that awkward formal… _stuff._

The sound of boots on stone and carpet brought Snow to a halt, and he looked behind him. Dark armour, curved, Odin-class blades strapped to her back, that tattered red scarf trailing out behind her as she strode along with purpose… Even at this distance, she seemed to exude annoyance and contempt for all things living.

Snow grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets as he watched her approach. From the looks of the parchment in her gauntleted hand, his First Lieutenant had also been summoned by the King of Baron.

Lightning Farron stopped before him, resting a hand on her hip. With the Dark Knight’s helm on, Snow couldn’t see her eyes, but the visor had been pushed up, giving him view of the lower half of her face. Even with that limited information, the flat press of her lips spoke of a nasty scowl. Great, she was pissed off. Wonderful news.

Snow fingered a circular object in his pocket, only too mindful of something else that would probably piss her off. No need to linger on that problem, she’d find out and skin him soon enough. ‘til then, he had a job to do.

“Phew. Thought I was the only one the King was gonna yell at, but if _you’re_ here too, it must not be all bad news,” Snow said as he scratched the back of his head, eager to cut through the tension. No matter what else happened, a tense Lightning was not somebody he wanted to take into an audience with the King.

“Tch.” A corner of Lightning’s lips twitched up, but it was quickly smothered by his lieutenant’s iron control. It was a good try, though, and he chalked it up to a partial success. Snow turned back for the massive doors to the King’s throne room, gesturing for Lightning to move ahead of him.

“Lord Captain Villiers is here, answering his Majesty’s summons,” Lightning told one of the castle guards at the door, receiving a sharp nod and a salute as the herald slipped in to inform the King of their arrival. A few moments later, the herald opened the double doors, motioning for them to move into the throne room. Snow squared his shoulders.

Time for him to face the music, no matter what tune the old man would play.

Flanked by Lightning and the herald, Snow entered the King’s throne room, quickly scanning his surroundings. It seemed that most of the dangerous weapons had been removed from the room – Snow grinned. That was a nice start. There were a number of courtiers lining the hall, and a few guards mingled with Baron’s elite. The stone hall was carpeted in red and gold, and the rugs led upwards, to where the King, his wife and his daughter all sat on a dais.

It was a throne designed to impose, no matter how kindly the current King was.

“Your Majesty! Presenting Lord Captain Snow Villiers and First Lieutenant Lightning Farron, of the Red Wings!” the herald called out, leading the pair to the dais, stooping in a low bow to the royal family. Snow and Lightning mimicked the herald’s bow, but finished up with a sharp salute in the usual style of the Red Wings.

King Ceodore smiled, rising to his feet as he motioned for his soldiers to stand at ease.

“Well met, Lord Captain Villiers, First Lieutenant Farron. Baron hails your presence,” Ceodore told them, descending slowly from the podium. His hand reached out to clasp Snow’s shoulder gently, giving his captain a reassuring squeeze. Though he was aging, Ceodore still remained hale and solid. Snow had heard that the old king still practiced combat – that it was something the king had picked up from old Captain Highwind, and the late King Cecil.

He grinned. For royalty, he’d found that Ceodore wasn’t all bad news.

“It is an honour to be here, your majesty. But I have to ask – what’s the deal?” Snow asked, as Ceodore returned to Baron’s throne.

“No, no. No problem with that side of matters, nor your patrol of Baron’s borders,” Ceodore told him softly, his eyes suddenly very far away. “I bring you before me, because my sources have mentioned some troubling tales, carried to me from abroad.”

“Troubling tales, your majesty?” Snow asked slowly, watching Lightning fold her arms over her chest. She didn’t seem surprised by the news, but it was so hard to tell with that woman. Had she heard something, while down in the township last night? He began to fidget, smacking the palm of his hand with a fist, repeatedly.

“Mm.” The King looked to his only daughter, Cinissra, who nodded and rose gracefully to her feet.

“My father speaks truly. There have been reports of a raging red horde, of monsters sighted to the east of Mysidia, starting from Mt. Ordeals,” Cinissra said, her clear voice grave. While Cinissra had declined an apprenticeship among the Red Wings and had little interest in military matters, she was well-versed on magical lore and kept up-to-date with information on happenings abroad. Snow had to remember that.

Ceodore shook his head, allowing his daughter to take her seat again. “Each night, they creep closer and closer to Mysidia, a nation and settlement that my father vowed to protect during his reign. I do not intend to break that vow, either. But… the appearance of these monsters worries me.”

“So you want us to go and put the horde down, is that right?” Lightning’s voice cut in, as cold and dispassionate as usual. With that black armour, she stood like an onyx statue in their midst. How could she stand to be so still? “That’s a big job, if Mysidia’s mages can’t handle the horde itself.”

“In so many words,” Ceodore agreed, his tone a little dry. “My family and Baron still owe a great debt to the world, and I will not let it be said that I shirked my duties in that respect.”

 _Sounds like it came straight from old Highwind himself. That man was always big on the redemption shtick, right?_

He looked to Lightning, who was nodding as if she’d heard it all before. Old Highwind, the previous Captain of the Red Wings, had been a bit of a mentor for the dark knight, even if he’d disliked the path that Lightning had ultimately taken in life. Bahamut’s flare, he’d been party to enough of their explosive arguments over the merits of the dark arts. A lot of _you’re throwing your life away, it won’t do any good now, what about long term goals_ – it had mostly fallen on deaf ears.

Bahamut only knew why Lightning had up and chosen the power of the deathsword and all its consequences, but she was damn good at it and frankly that was all Snow cared about. Bad publicity be damned.

Still, this whole meeting was feeling way too tense for his tastes. Snow grinned, attempting to put everyone at ease as he declared, “You got nothing to worry about, your majesty. The Red Wings can handle a little group of monsters, no sweat!”

Ceodore smiled. “Then I will leave this mission in your capable hands, Lord Captain Villiers. Take this night to restock and prepare, and take the fleet to Mt. Ordeals on the morrow. I have sent word to Dysley, and contingent of Dragoons will assist your endeavours. But please, be careful. You are dismissed.”

###

“Well, that was pretty interesting,” Snow said as he pushed through the double oak doors and out into the halls of Baron Castle, Lightning falling into pace just behind him. He reflexively cracked his neck and knuckles. The whole summons business hadn’t nearly been as bad as he’d been expecting, and he was seriously dying to let out all that cooped-up attention, as it was still rattling around inside him like marbles in a suit of armour.

 _“Tch._ ‘Interesting’? Are you serious?” Lightning breathed out sharply, and though the dark helm’s vivid green eyes concealed her eyes, Snow had the distinct impression that she was glaring at him. She shook her head in exasperation. “Hordes of monsters to the east of Mysidia? Call it like it is, Hero. It’s disturbing.”

“That too,” Snow agreed lazily, as he nodded in acknowledgement to the salutes of the guards by the next door. There she went with that ‘Hero’ business again. Was it in derision, or was it just a nickname? Even after all these years, he couldn’t tell. “But it’s not far from Mt. Ordeals. Old Highwind would have thrown a _fit,_ man.”

Lightning made a sound that was half amusement, half annoyance, as they descended the steps to Baron Castle’s courtyard. “It has been a significant place for Baron, for a long time. It can’t be coincidence that these monsters would appear _there,_ of all places. Why not Eblan, near the Tower of Babil? Fabul?”

Snow laughed. Lightning was being a pessimist again, and from the slight smile on her lips, she knew it too. “Of course, you’d rather they appear right on top of Baron? Seriously, Light. Quit tinhatting. We got a lot of work to do before we move out tomorrow. Got men to rally, asshole dragoon commanders to bro, supplies to hoard and weapons to calibrate. Conspiracy theories can wait ‘til we’re airborne.”

“As the Lord Captain commands,” Lightning replied dryly, punctuating her answer with a sharp salute. Snow watched his lieutenant move off, to begin the preparations for tomorrow’s campaign, and he smiled a little crookedly.

As harsh and critical of him as the woman was, he knew that Lightning Farron was the best damn commander in the Red Wings. She knew tactics, logistics, she knew the chain of command like the back of her hand and while she was mediocre at best with airship navigation, her skill with those Odin-class swords more than made up for it.

But with all her no-nonsense and tactics, somehow she’d been overlooked for Lord Captain. Even more shockingly, it had been Snow himself who’d been promoted to lead the Red Wings after Highwind’s death. Bahamut’s beard, but it was times like these that Snow wondered what Old Kain Highwind had been thinking, when he chose ex-delinquent, absurdly-optimistic Snow over the controlled, Dark Knight Lightning, to succeed him as Lord Captain.

Snow had heard the rumours, the ones that had sprung up like weeds since his promotion. _Everyone_ expected him to screw this up, to lead the Red Wings to destruction and get himself killed in the first few months of the job. False airs and bravado aside, but… part of him wondered if the rumour-mill was right. That he really _would_ screw up. Snow sighed, running a hand through his shaggy, blond hair as he looked up at the cloud-streaked sky.

First thing was first, though – before the rest of Baron believed in _him,_ he’d have to believe in _himself._ That was all there was to it. He’d show Lightning that he was a worthy commander, and a worthy… he thrust his hand in the pocket, checking that the object was still there. He smiled when he felt it. Great!

“Now to take care of the jerkwad that runs the Dragoons…” Snow muttered, as he headed for the Dragoon barracks. And Lightning thought she had it so damn hard with the paperwork – she didn’t have to deal with that imperialistic bastard every time they needed Dragoon assistance…

###

The sun was touching the horizon by the time Lightning had finalized preparations for the next day’s campaign, and had sent the supply and recruitment lists to the King’s clerks. The paperwork was no longer her problem tonight, and after a whole day of numbers and planning, she was ready to slouch back to the quarters she shared with Serah, and just sleep until daybreak. But damn Villiers would never let her skip Red Wing tradition, even if he’d have to come and roust her from her blankets.

 _I swear to Bahamut, if you break into my room one more time, Snow, you are going to be shorter by a whole head,_ she thought, with a small amount of viciousness, as she pushed her way out of the dimly-lit command centre. Baron’s courtyard was stained in the setting sun’s red and gold, the servants’ preparations for that night’s meal already in full swing.

Lightning paused, thoughtful. In such commotion, she could probably slip up to her quarters and bar the door, tradition be damned!

The Red Wing tradition – started not long after Snow had been forcefully drafted to the Red Wings to keep him from a life of delinquency, and a good year before Lightning had chosen the deathsword – dictated that on the eve of a sizable operation, they’d go down to Baron’s tavern and celebrate. Because, Snow had claimed all those years ago, you never knew who wasn’t going to be coming back home.

It wasn’t a terrible sentiment. Lightning just couldn’t be bothered playing nice with the new recruits and Dragoons when she needed a good night’s sleep. She silently groaned, wavering between ignoring tradition or ignoring her pounding headache. But Snow would be down there already, so he’d know if Lightning skipped something he took so damn seriously. And the last time Snow had stormed her room had been unpleasant enough, when they’d both just been Red Wings recruits – he was her commanding officer now.

There was really only one thing for it.

The walk down to Baron’s large tavern was relatively short, though the path down the tavern’s alley was a muddy quagmire due to the recent rains. There was still light by the time the old, stone-brick building came into view, the torches inside and out already lit up for the night. From the sounds of things, the celebrations were already underway – glass shattering, raucous laughter, and was that a small explosion she just heard? She thought she could hear the melody of a harp over the general din, but only if she strained.

Her headache seemed to pound in rhythm with the revelry. Bahamut’s beard, this was a bad idea.

 _You just have to do this for a little while,_ she told herself firmly as she approached the wooden door. _These are your soldiers, show a little spine for once._

She straightened at the silent taunt, and pushed her way into the tavern. The smell of cheap ale was almost overwhelming at first, and the massive hearth on the far wall held a raging fire that made the room seem stiflingly hot. The main room was packed with uniformed Red Wing soldiers, the division of Paladins and what seemed to be a small squadron of dragoons. Lightning sighed – so that had been all Snow had been able to procure from Dysley? A disappointing number. Worse, they all looked to be fairly raw and inexperienced.

Lightning forced her way through the crowd, scanning the room for Snow. Usually, he was easy to locate, as he was always in the centre of the festivities. She skilfully avoided getting splashed with ale as a group of Red Wings pushed their way passed her, her mind working. So if she couldn’t see Snow, then…

 _Snow isn’t here,_ Lightning realized with a grimace. _That hypocritical bastard._

On the positive side, she was free to head back up to the keep, then. Lightning was sliding covertly towards the door when she felt something – or someone – latch onto her elbow. She whirled with a muffled oath, and barely stopped herself from slamming her gauntleted fist into the face of the dragoon who’d just caught her.

The dragoon didn’t seem fazed as she watched Lightning let her fist drop to her side, her green eyes showing nothing but amusement. That was an… odd reaction. Few dared to get in a Dark Knight’s way, and even fewer when that Dark Knight was the First Lieutenant of the Red Wings.

“And where did _you_ think y’were going?” the dragoon asked her, in what sounded like a Mysidian accent. Her hold on Lightning’s elbow tightened before the First Lieutenant could pull away.

“Back up to the castle,” Lightning said, raising her voice, so that the dragoon could hear it over the din. “I can’t waste my time on… _this._ I have a lot of preparations to complete.”

The Dragoon raised an eyebrow, her green eyes sceptical. Lightning tried to shrug off the sudden uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. It wasn’t exactly a lie, was it? Lightning’s tired mind scrambled for a profile for the dragoon. Wild, dark hair, green eyes, Mysidian accent, complete disregard for authority, and Lightning _knew_ she’d seen that tribal-style patterning on the blue Dragoon-style armour in the courtyards.

 _Fang Yun, a relatively new dragoon recruit from Mysidia,_ her mind supplied as she scanned the woman’s face, which was missing the customary dragoon-style visor. _Only been with Baron’s military three years. Loose cannon, often at ends with Dysley._

“But you jus’ got here!” the woman – Fang – complained as she tugged on Lightning’s elbow, hard enough to pull the dark knight off-balance. Even as she stumbled, Lightning fought her first instinct – to slog the other woman one for invading her personal space. She frowned. Didn’t Fang have _any_ idea of who she was pulling around, like some raw recruit? Fed up with this ridiculous charade, Lightning jerked her elbow from Fang’s grasp.

“C’mon,” Fang begged her in a low voice, grinning at Lightning’s obvious annoyance. “A coupla mates and I got this great game goin’ on. You should have a shot. It’s a real barrel of monkeys.”

Lightning cursed softly, looking back towards the tavern’s door. So close, yet so far away… It looked as if Fang Yun wasn’t about to let the topic drop, so finally, Light inclined her head in a curt nod. She’d at least see what this so-called _game_ was.

The dragoon whooped and motioned for Lightning to follow her, and they made their way to the back corner of the over-crowded tavern. Two men – one of the older Red Wings soldiers, and a dragoon – were seated at a rickety table. The entire surface of the table had been covered in empty pitchers of ale and chipped mugs. Lightning grimaced.

 _Attractive._

Rygdea, the older Red Wings soldier, raised a mug lazily in her direction, and then looked back to the wall. Some idiot had rigged up a dartboard, and there was one of the newer Red Wings recruits – a blond kid that Lightning vaguely recalled as going by the name ‘Maqui’ – standing unsteadily before it. Clutched in one hand, was a number of darts. Lightning looked back to Fang, her question obvious.

Fang slung an arm around Lightning’s shoulders, pulling her close so that Lightning could hear over the din of laughter and music. Lightning pushed down a surge of irritation at the familiarity of the contact.

“The game goes like _this,”_ Fang said, her breath scorching Lightning’s ear. “Every time this kiddo misses hittin’ the dart board with one of them there darts, we –” Fang gestured to herself, Lightning, Rygdea, and the other dragoon. “-gotta drink a shot of Eblan’s finest rice wine.”

From the smell of ale on Fang’s breath and the slight slur to her words, this wouldn’t have been the first time that night she’d played the game, before she’d dragged Lightning into it. Lightning pushed herself free of Fang’s comradely hold, frowning at the three of them.

“He’s smashed. He won’t even be able to _see_ the board, let alone hit it with those darts.”

Rygdea laughed, filling a small, shot-sized glass with the rice wine. “That’s our lieutenant, sharp as ever!”

Fang smirked at Rygdea’s laughter, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her green eyes were challenging, though, as she stared Lightning down. “And that there is the _point,_ darlin’. Are y’always this much fun to be around, or am I jus’ special?”

Lightning looked at the dragoon sharply, but the other woman looked like the picture of innocence. “Whatever. I’m out of here.”

She strode away from the cramped little table, intending to go up to the keep and sleep until daybreak, but Fang moved to block her path. Lightning scowled at the other woman, but Fang didn’t back down.

“Huh.” Fang’s expression was thoughtful as her eyes roved Lightning. “Didn’t think that the Red Wings promoted the chickenshit.”

 _Chickenshit?_ Lightning’s back straightened. That dragoon just called _her_ chickenshit? Her hand twitched for her swords Zantetsuken and Zanmato, dying to show Fang Yun just how _chickenshit_ the First Lieutenant of the Red Wings really was, when just a cut from either of her curved, serrated swords could spell _instant death_ to the target –

Lightning forced her hands down, exhaling sharply. She had a better idea, and she wouldn’t have a murder to explain to Snow and Dysley in the morning. She turned her back on Fang, stalking to the table as she pulled her dark, horned helmet off, tossing it carelessly to the ground at her feet. Sweat was making her spiked hair stick to her damp neck, but at the moment, she didn’t give a damn as she pulled out a rickety chair, and grabbed a shot glass.

Lightning looked up, meeting Fang’s bright, green eyes squarely. Like hell she was going to back down from this challenge now. “Let’s do this.”

Fang just smirked, shrugging lazily before she slid onto one of the chairs beside Lightning. “Got a bit of fight in ya, I see.” She turned towards Rygdea and the other dragoon, accepting a shot glass from one of them. “Orright you blockheads, game on! Maqui, if y’d be so nice as t’do the honours?”

The blond kid just nodded unsteadily, and looked blearily back towards the dartboard on the wall. His first throw didn’t even make it within a few feet of the dartboard, skittering uselessly against the battered stone wall. The rice wine scorched Lightning’s throat as she obediently downed a shot along with the others, before slamming the chipped, ceramic shot glass to the wooden table. Bahamut, that stuff was _awful,_ but neither Fang, Rygdea or the other dragoon seemed to comment. Perhaps they were too far gone to even care how their drinks tasted.

A few more darts later, and Lightning wasn’t sure that this whole challenge was a good idea. The world seemed to lurch with the slightest movement, but from the number of darts still in Maqui’s hand, the game was far from over. She tightened her hand into a fist – she couldn’t back down now, or she really _would_ be a coward. Another missed dart, another shot, and by that point she could barely taste the alcohol. A pleasant buzz was starting to spread out from her stomach, easing the tension between her shoulders, in her mind.

 _This really isn’t so bad,_ Lightning thought as she watched Rygdea splutter as his shot went down the wrong way, watched Fang thump him on the back. She stifled a snort at the way Rygdea’s face flushed, the way he kept arguing that he was _more’n ready to take y’three pussies down,_ but a few moments later he was passed out on the table, a small amount of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth.

“Pft, what a _lightweight,”_ Fang sneered as she topped Lightning’s shot glass up, though her hands were so unsteady that nearly half of what she poured ended up on the table beside the glass. The other dragoon was the next to go down as Maqui ended the final roulette of darts, sliding from his stool with a drunken-sounding hiccough and beginning to snore loudly.

Victors in their stupid little shots game, Fang slung an arm about Lightning’s shoulders. The dragoon was acting far too familiar for Lightning’s tastes, but the buzz in her body and overall laziness in her mind was enough to dissuade Lightning from shoving her off.

“Know what?” Fang said in Lightning’s ear, her breath reeking of the Eblan rice wine, her voice loud enough to make Lightning’s drunken brain cringe. “Wasn’ expecting you to last this long. Maybe they _do_ make ‘em tough in Baron.”

Lightning snorted, elbowing the dragoon sharply in the ribs. Not hard enough to hurt, but it was enough to get her point across. “I do have an entire army’s honour to uphold.”

“I like how y’imply that a dark knight has honour. For an officer, you ain’t half bad.” Fang slapped her thigh, throwing her head back and letting out a full-throated chuckle. Lightning watched her, a small smile on her lips. It was nice, how Fang acted the way she _felt,_ instead of tiptoeing around Lightning because of her military status and all the baggage that came with swearing to the deathsword. It wasn’t a martial style with a lot of love or respect, not like a bloody paladin, mage or _dragoon._

Lightning supposed the old Captain, had had a lot to do with that sudden love. Dark Knights, despite their power, were still associated with a time in history that everyone just wanted to forget. Not her fault, though. She still needed the extra boost in power, that edge that would let her protect what was precious.

Still feeling entirely too charitable towards this Fang Yun, Lightning grabbed a mug of the much-weaker ale and swallowed a large mouthful. The normally warmed ale was stone cold now, but she was smashed enough to not care.

Looking over the rim of the mug and smirking at Fang, Lightning said, “You’re not that bad yourself.”

Fang drew back in mock surprise, her voice loud enough to carry over the general din of the drunken celebrations around them. “Do m’ears deceive me? The First Lieutenant is actually payin’ a compliment to a lowly Dragoon?”

“Here I was, thinking you were being so utterly irritating because you didn’t realize my rank.”

Fang just grinned, grabbing Lightning’s mug of ale from her hands, and taking a deep swallow from it. “It’s _never_ that simple, Sunshine.”

“Sunshine?” Lightning asked with a scowl, her mood clouding over almost immediately. That nickname. What in the name of Bahamut was _that_ meant to mean? _Sunshine?_

Fang shrugged easily, slinging an arm back around Lightning’s shoulders, as she leaned forwards to explain in a lower voice. “Dark Knight, obscenely cranky disposition, _that_ glare f’starters.”

It must have been the buzz from all the alcohol – that had to be the _only_ reason that Lightning was reconsidering gutting this Fang Yun right where she sat. Come to think of it, it was almost funny, in a pathetic sort of way. Lightning covered her mouth with the back of her hand, fighting her amusement. For once, she even felt like laughing.

Instead, Lightning just muttered something, and looked off to the side as she took a deep breath. She frowned – she thought she could smell jasmine for a moment.

“Just don’t make a habit of it.”

The dragoon grinned, giving the First Lieutenant a crude approximation of the Red Wings salute with her free hand. “No worries, Sunshine.”

Lightning laughed, feeling the thrill in her veins amplify with her increasingly good mood. There was something deeply amusing about Fang’s antics, and something relaxing. She leaned into Fang’s shoulder, biting her lower lip slightly as she took in the sharp angle of Fang’s profile, her wild, dark hair. It had been a long time since Lightning had been attracted to anyone, but even so, she was certain that she…

She froze, frowning as she realized just what she’d been doing. She’d had far too much to drink that night, and she was playing a very dangerous game with this Dragoon she hardly knew. Even the slightest scandal – such as the First Lieutenant being caught naked and groaning in the arms of another woman -

 _Get a grip, soldier, don’t get excited._

-would reflect badly on the Red Wings and Baron’s fragile international diplomacy. There was status to think about, there was _propriety._ There was the fact that she’d been openly flirting with this woman, and no matter how pleasant it had felt, she’d been practically throwing herself at Fang! No wonder Fang had been so _amused_ by Lightning’s reactions.

This had to stop.

Lightning rose swiftly as she pulled herself from Fang’s overly familiar grasp, fast enough to make her head spin and her vision swirl sickeningly. Grimacing and forcing herself to endure, Lightning reached down and grabbed her dark helm from under the table, tucking it under her arm as she turned her back on the confused-looking dragoon. She felt a little regret, but it was for the best. That’s all that counted.

“Where you goin’, Sunshine?” Fang asked, her voice low, her green eyes puzzled by the abrupt change in Lightning’s demeanour.

Lightning didn’t trust herself to answer. Still kicking herself for letting her guard down, she made her way to the tavern’s exit. The air outside the building was like ice, the wind’s stiff chill setting in quickly through the blackened armour. Lightning embraced the numbness, fleeing the warmth and buzz from the alcohol leech out as she headed for Baron’s castle.

###

Fang leaned back with a groan, watching the Dark Knight vanish into the night.

“Well, that went great,” she muttered, taking another draught of Lightning’s ale. Still sprawled over the table beside her, she noted that Rygdea had stopped drooling. Her eyes narrowed, and she elbowed him in the ribs – hard. “Y’can stop pretending, Vales.”

The Red Wings’ wingman sat up with a colourful-sounding curse, rubbing the gap in his armour that Fang’s elbow had targeted.

“Ruddy bitch,” Rygdea growled. He hocked and spat off to the side, before grinning widely. “Whatever, Yun. I’ll see you in th’ mornin’, got a date with my bunk all lined up. Gonna be real cozy. Sure you weren’t wanting to join me?”

Fang laughed at his nerve – that attitude was exactly why she liked the man in the first place. “Keep dreamin’, Vales.”

Rygdea grinned, downing the last of his drink and clapping Fang on the shoulder as he moved to leave the tavern. “Maybe I will. Maybe ‘bout you an’ the _First Lieutenant.”_

The smug bastard ducked the jug that Fang swung at his head, as he scrambled to make his getaway. Fang scowled, cursing her aim. A pity – that pitcher could have done with a Rygdea-shaped dent in the side.

###

It was raining, by the time Lightning made it back to the keep, and she was stone-cold sober. She shook her head, disgusted with herself. No matter how unconsciously, she’d been considering kissing Fang, right there and then. In full view of the Red Wings. In a tavern. She _knew_ that it would be a bad idea – even without her private mission and the Red Wings to think about, there was still a glaring issue.

Relationships for a dark knight were a bad idea – Bahamut only knew when she’d tap the darkness for the last time, and gave her final souleater. At best, she was a ticking time-bomb. At worst, she was the walking dead. Lightning, paused outside the chambers she shared with Serah, looked down at her armoured gloves. She clenched the hand slowly. There was Serah to think about, Serah to _protect._

Even if it meant Lightning’s inevitable death in exchange for this power, she’d see that Serah remained safe and happy.

Quietly, Lightning eased the outer doors open – she froze as she heard low voices, bracing herself against the wall and drawing Zantetsuken as her heart began to pound. An intruder, or just a visitor? Her mouth twisted into a grimace, tightening her grip on Zantetsuken and reaching for its twin, Zanmato. It was a bit late for a visitor, so that left only a few options, none of them alternatives that Lightning wanted to consider.

She’d either walked in on a kidnapping attempt, or she’d walked in on her sister with a lover.

Staying as quiet as the dead, Lightning leaned back against the wall and simply listened to the lowered voices.

###

Snow’s heart was in his throat as he knelt before her, taking her hand in his own and pressing his lips to her knuckles. The moonlight, streaming in from the open window, stained her skin and dress silver, the view stealing his breath away.

Serah Farron rested her other hand on his shoulder, the touch warm through his heavy jacket. He cherished it.

His voice was hoarse with barely-restrained emotion, when he spoke again. “I promise you, Serah. I’ll come back from this, and when I do, everyone will know for sure that I’m the guy for the job.”

She looked a little surprised at his admission of doubts, even as he covered it up with boundless optimism. Her eyes softened. “Snow, I never doubted that you would be-”

He slammed a fist to the floor, feeling his knuckles bruise from the force of his blow. “You don’t get it! Between Dysley and your sister… I’m convinced all of Baron is laughing at me, saying that I’m just a puppet on the strings of people who should be backing me up! I’ve gotta prove that I’m not just some _figurehead_ Kain set up to take the fall, that…”

Snow forced his voice to level, to become more gentle. Less desperate. Rational.

“I’ve gotta prove that I can make you happy!” He reached out, wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his face in her stomach. He felt her arms fold over the top of his head, accepting his sudden embrace. “Serah… I’ve got to prove it to them, and myself. And when that happens, I’ll have proved to Lightning that I deserve you, that I can take care of you now.”

He felt her hesitate, searching for the right words. Heartbeats stretched on for what seemed like eternity, before she finally spoke. “You have to do what you have to do, Snow. Just don’t forget that you have people that love you, no matter what. And those people are the ones that will help you through.”

She was right. Serah was always right. She was cautious where he was bold, thoughtful when he blurted whatever came to mind. She was proper, he was crude. She was born of high blood, and he’d been drafted off the streets for vandalism. She was everything that he was not, and even though they were so different…

He couldn’t imagine life without her.

Snow took a breath, releasing his grasp on her waist and reaching into the deep pockets of his coat. His gloved fingers found what he sought, and he drew it out carefully, his hands shaking slightly. It was now or never. Time to face the music, because that’s what heroes did.

“Serah… please.” He reached forward, grasping her hand gently in his own. “When I get back from this investigation, can we make this whole thing official?”

Serah gasped as he pressed a ring into the palm of her hand. He released her hand with a smile, letting her stare down at the ring that remained. That ring was only thing that Snow had left of his mother, and now? He was giving it to the woman he loved, the woman that he planned to start his own family with.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes almost not believing.

He guessed he had to make it completely obvious, then. “Will you marry me?”

She stared down at the ring, and for one terrifying moment, he was certain that she’d refuse.

“Snow… I… _yes!”_

The words felt like magic in his ears. Serah choked, and sobbing, flung herself into his arms. Snow held her as she cried, stroking her hair, his heart fit to bursting. Even if he had his work cut out for him with the rest of Baron, he knew that didn’t need to prove a thing to Serah.

###

Lightning leaned against the wall, silent, but her mind a whirlwind of anger and confusion. She almost couldn’t believe it. Snow, to marry _her sister?_ She shook her head, forcefully. How could she not have noticed this? How had they managed to keep it from her? She was his _lieutenant,_ for Odin’s sake! How could _Serah_ have kept it from her?

She waited until Snow made his way from the chambers, determinedly resisting the urge to lash out from the dark with Zantetsuken, before she quietly entered the joint rooms. There was no sign that Serah had been awake at this hour, no sign that Snow had ever been there at all. Just how long had they been meeting like this, behind her back?

 _Long enough to want to be wed,_ the insidious part of her mind whispered.

Wordlessly, Lightning opened the door to Serah’s room, leaning against the doorframe as her eyes strained to resolve the shapes in the dark. She could see Serah’s form on the bed, obviously pretending to be asleep. She scowled. As if Serah would be able to sleep, not after accepting a proposal from the man she _apparently_ loved. Lightning watched her for a few moments more, before quietly closing the door again.

Serah had been the entire reason that Lightning had sworn to the deathsword. After the violent death of their parents at the talons of monsters, Lightning had vowed to protect Serah, to preserve the last of her family. Simply remaining a private in the Red Wings clearly wouldn’t have been enough – her father had been a wingman, and he _still_ hadn’t been able to save either himself or their mother. She’d had to go further.

The deathsword, no matter how staunchly Captain Kain had been against the idea, had been ideal. Power, in exchange for years off her own life. Her life for Serah’s, and she’d seen it as a fair trade.

But with Snow in the picture… he was vowing to protect Serah as well. Did that mean that her place as Serah’s guardian was being usurped? A small part of her both dreaded and relished it. If Snow was capable of protecting Serah, then was there any need for Lightning to keep draining her soul, her lifespan, for the needed power?

Maybe. Maybe not.


	2. The Raging Red Horde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Red Wings leave Baron, and things have only gotten more complicated for Lightning with Snow’s proposal to Serah. Either way, they’ve got a job to do, and Lightning isn’t going to let anything – not Snow, and not Fang, either – get in her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Notes:** Hooray alliteration. As for continuation, I’m convinced! I was going to have it finished at the end of the current Arc (five chapters) but it did feel kinda like an asspull with some of the characterization and plot points. I mean, I don’t want to deus ex machina things here, without properly backing it up. Light vs. Darkness and the Zeromus connection all needed a bit more time to be dealt with. Besides, Snow’s character arc is becoming quite interesting to me.
> 
> Another note, of course I’m taking a few liberties with FFIV’s mythos and current world. It’s been forty-seven years since Cecil’s adventure, thirty since Ceodore’s. Some things will have changed. Other things are merely my attempts at world building and making sense of the world of FFIV (prime example – the Dark Knights).

Lightning lowered the binoculars from her eyes, shielding her face to protect them from the rays of the rising sun. Her head was pounding with every creak of wood in the wind, every groan from the engines thrumming beneath the _Bodhum’s_ deck and when the airborne seagulls screeched, she just wanted to ram Zanmato through her brain and end it all. She’d known she’d regret that shots game Fang had roped her into, especially with such an early rise for their mission the next day.

Too late for regrets, now.

Clearing her throat uncomfortably, she handed the binoculars back to Sazh, the _Bodhum’s_ main navigator. He raised an eyebrow, and he seemed to be waiting for her assessment of the wind currents and the flight crew’s mission preparations. Great, yet another evaluation she’d have to fabricate.

“Everything seems in order, navigator,” Lightning told him stiffly, still loathe to admit her deficiency in the area. First Lieutenant of the Red Wings, and she could barely read an airchart? Let alone analyze the air for windcurrents, use the stars for directions… Snow would have killed himself laughing, if she hadn’t murdered him first. She had been promoted for her tactics and battle prowess, not for her poor navigation skills.

“As you say, First Lieutenant,” Sazh agreed mildly, hiding a small smile behind his hand. “I’ll just tell the crew that my new orders will come from you, then, ma’am?”

Lightning inclined her head sharply, grateful that her helm’s visor obscured her obvious relief. At least today it was Sazh, who seemed on-board with this whole charade, and not somebody like Rosch, who could be as suspicious as an Eblan ninja when the mood struck him.

“How long until the supplies are all loaded?” Lightning asked, more than willing to steer his attention away from the glaring flaws in her navigation abilities.

“Fine. Nearly done with the food, just got that cartload of weaponry to go. But before you relax, there’s something else. Apparently someone in the clerk’s office kicked up a great fuss about your request for the maelstrom cannons, so you might wanna go check that out.”

“Which clerk was it?” Her teeth were gritted, and she knew that a number of the Red Wings wingmen were now looking over at her. Lightning cursed, snapping her visor up to scan the decks, as if the offending clerk would have been in easy striking distance.

With an effort, she doused the dark flames that had sprung up around her clenched fist. No point wasting a good attack on a clerk.

Sazh just laughed at her demand, bringing his wrinkled aircharts back up to his face sharply. “Which one is it usually? She’s down by the _Eden,_ if you’re wanting to be picking bones.”

 _That meddling Nabaat woman, then. Dysley’s little minion._ Lightning scowled, turning sharply away from where Sazh was running through the take-off preparations. Once, Lightning would have been fine with. Twice, it began to get annoying.

But to have some pencil-pushing clerk questioning Lightning’s ability to plan and keep her troops well supplied, _every single time…_ it was beginning to wear thin, no matter how close Nabaat was with the Dragoon Commander. Lightning vaulted off the edge of the _Bodhum’s_ deck, landing in a heavy crouch on the wooden airship dock, and then straightened. A few of the civilian workers, loading the supplies, scattered as they saw her and backing away hastily when she passed by them.

Must have been all that killing intent that she was exuding. Tch. That always made the general population nervous.

Just as Sazh had told her, Lightning found the belligerent clerk at the center of a whirlwind of activity over at the _Eden_ airship, ordering Red Wings men and servants around as if she were the Lord Captain herself. Lightning’s scowl darkened as she approached.

Jihl Nabaat had always been one to toe the lie between helpful and interfering, and answered to Galenth Dysley. The Dragoon Commander was someone that Lightning respected, and Jihl was a vital part of his operations – but after last night’s disaster with Snow and Serah and _that dragoon,_ Lightning was completely out of patience for Jihl’s little mind-games. Jihl had just enough time to look at Lightning, adjust her wire-rimmed spectacles with one well-manicured hand, before Lightning snatched the supplies list from her.

Jihl didn’t even blink, merely smiled.

“How could I have guessed. Jihl Nabaat.” Lightning struggled to keep her voice even, as she rounded on the clerk.

The manservant, the one that Jihl had been ordering about, took one look at Lightning and fled, but that cold smile of Jihl’s never wavered. Was this woman completely unflappable? It was probably why Dysley held her in high regard. Regardless, Lightning had to sort this ridiculous red tape out. She couldn’t trust Snow to handle it – he’d cave to Jihl’s demands like a Damcyan bard.

“I heard you had some questions for me, in regards to this supply list. Though I’m not sure why you’re wasting my time.”

Jihl’s green eyes flashed down to the crumpled list in Lightning’s gauntleted hand.

“Inefficient planning is the bane of any great commander, Lieutenant.” Those green eyes flickered back up to Lightning’s dark helm. “Surely Captain Highwind would have had you thoroughly instructed in that?”

The paper in Lightning’s hand crunched as she tightened it into a fist. “I hardly find my requests unreasonable, Nabaat.”

“A soldier never does.” Jihl turned away from her, giving a Baron Castle servant another set of rapid orders.

“We have no intel on how big this monster horde is,” Lightning said, resisting the urge to lash out at Nabaat, to wipe that smile off the woman’s face once and for all. “I’d rather waste a few extra gil on bringing weapons we didn’t need, rather than lose lives because we were underprepared.”

“I’m afraid that it’s my business to see things the other way, Lieutenant,” Jihl told her as she caught the elbow of another lower-ranked clerk, leaning in to give him orders that Lightning couldn’t catch over the bustling preparations that surrounded them.

“And yet Lord Captain Villiers and the King would certainly see it mine, Nabaat.”

 _Enough is enough._ Lightning spotted two of the more experienced Red Wings men loitering in the background. It couldn’t have been just coincidence that brought them here, even if the two had been assigned to the _Eden’s_ squadron. Rygdea shot her a grin and a lazy wave, while Cid only shrugged.

“Vales! Raines!” Lightning smirked, as she waved for the two men’s attention. “Inform the castle armoury to release the maelstrom cannons to the Red Wings, now that I’ve sorted the bureaucratic mess out.”

Rygdea snapped Lightning a sharp salute, before dragging Raines off towards the castle’s armouries. Lightning doubted that Mid Pollendina would give the two men issues, now that Jihl and her cronies weren’t breathing down the back of his neck.

The thwarted clerk turned back to Lightning, her smile a touch frostier, her hands laced before her, but her voice was decidedly level when she spoke. “I suppose there was a reason why the late Kain Highwind and the King overlooked you for the position of Captain. I think I can see why.”

As Lightning watched Jihl stride back up the narrow path towards the castle, she felt her anger spike again. Bringing up Highwind’s death and Snow’s promotion had been a low blow, one that had been calculated to throw Lightning off balance. That was right. She knew she had to relax, focus and get on with her job, because she sure as hell couldn’t count on Snow to do his part.

 _And where the hell is he?_

Pinching the bridge of her nose as her head began to pound again, Lightning scanned the crowd for her wayward Captain, reluctantly thinking on what she’d learned last night. She still hadn’t decided what she was going to do about this absurd marriage proposal, and she hadn’t had the chance to speak with Serah about it. Bahamut, she wasn’t even supposed know about this whole thing yet.

It was the betrayal of her trust that burned the most, that Serah hadn’t even seen fit to inform Lightning that she’d taken Snow – what on earth was Serah thinking, by marrying _Snow?_ – as a lover. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the glimpse of a mottled blue coat, a black bandana, a gauntleted arm – before her Captain ducked behind a set of crates that were stacked tall.

Lightning’s eyes followed him for a moment, as she debated chasing after him. She could show them that she _knew_ and she certainly wasn’t going to approve of this stupid, secretive relationship they had – before she cursed.

She had a job to do, and if Snow wasn’t going to be around to help her, then so be it. Serah, Snow and this mess they’d gotten themselves into, were going to have to wait until they got back from the mission.

###

Snow caught Serah in a tight embrace as he reached her, stroking her strawberry blonde hair and taking in a deep breath of her unique scent. He’d miss this. He’d miss not sneaking into her chambers at night, being so careful not to tip his lieutenant off. He’d miss her quiet laughter, the way she explained political issues and history to him, her smiles and her touch and –

Her arms were around his neck then, and she caught his lips in a searing kiss.

As she broke away, Snow grinned. He had to admit it – he’d miss _that,_ too.

He closed his arms about her reflexively, squeezing her warm body against him. Bahamut only knew what they’d find at Mount Ordeals, but the idea of never seeing Serah again didn’t appeal to him. He supposed it was incentive enough to make it back alive.

“I love you,” he told her quietly, leaning down to kiss her again, wishing that they could stay like that forever. “It’ll be over before you know it, I’ll tell Lightning, and then we get married. The sky’s the limit for us, so we can hold on a little longer.”

Serah leaned into his touch, holding his gauntleted had against her cheek, before kissing the palm. Though Snow couldn’t feel the warmth of her lips, he smiled.

“Just come back to me in one piece, all right? My hero.”

Snow laughed, but the title still felt a little strange. Hero. Something that Lightning sometimes used to mock him, that she used to remind him of just how far he had to go until he reached his dream. Bahamut, how the hell was he going to tell Lightning about all _this?_

But now, he knew his lieutenant would be looking for him, and it was time for the Red Wings to launch. Stooping to kiss his wife-to-be one last time, Snow heard the shrill whistle of the _Bodhum’s_ launching horn. Hurriedly straightening, Snow waved farewell to Serah as he sprinted for the _Bodhum,_ his powerful legs letting him vault up the gangplank even as the airship began to lift off the ground.

Lightning was already aboard, and from the little of her face that he could see, she looked suitably disgusted by his tardiness. He smiled at that, and he turned his mind back to the crowd that had gathered to see the heroic Red Wings off. He waved to them, before turning to Sazh.

For just an instant, though he thought he saw Dysley and that Nabaat clerk in the crowd. Nah, couldn’t have been. What would Dysley and Nabaat be doing, down here? The Dragoon Commander had already made it clear that he wanted no part of this mission.

Snow shook his head. There was no more time for doubt, so he’d just have to take it as it came.

###

Lightning remained motionless on the foredeck, as she watched Baron dwindle into a mere speck in the distance. Her mind worked as she watched her Captain begin the in-flight checks on equipment, soldiers and supplies.

The fact that Serah hadn’t seen fit to see her off from Baron – and the fact that it was probably Snow’s fault – wasn’t making her feel any better. Serah used to always see her off, when it came to extended missions. Lately, though, things had changed, even if Lightning had been too busy to notice it at the time.

Lightning clenched her teeth, letting the wind lash at her. She supposed she knew why Serah was too busy to say goodbye, now.

The First Lieutenant groaned silently as she watched a Dragoon leave their section of the _Bodhum’s_ deck, and quickly cross over to her. That over-confident swagger could only indicate one person, and Lightning was less than overjoyed to find that she’d snuck her way onto the _Bodhum._ She could have sworn she’d listed Fang Yun as being part of the _Eden’s_ defenses, she noted with a scowl as Fang stopped in front of her.

“So, fancy meeting you here.” Fang’s voice was teasing, as if she were at the Baron tavern again, instead addressing her commanding officer out of the blue. Tch. Dragoons. Dysley was getting sloppy with their discipline it, seemed. It hardly mattered – Lightning was more than willing to take a hard-line against loose cannons like Yun.

“Get back to your post, Dragoon, before I have you thrown in the hold,” Lightning told the other woman, firmly, as another gust of wind howled across the _Bodhum’s_ deck. Around her, navigators and crewmen scrambled to adjust for the unexpected change in wind-patterns.

Fang just sighed, removing her helm with one gauntleted hand, while combing through her wild, dark hair with the other.

“Bahamut, I hate helmet hair,” the woman lamented, before turning her pale, green eyes onto Lightning. “But as for _you,_ I see we’re feeling a bit snappy. Can’t say I blame you, though. I know I have the hangover to end all hangovers.”

“That was an order, Dragoon,” Lightning said tonelessly, frowning at Fang from behind her dark helm. The hangover? That was not what the dismissal was about. It was about the chain of command, the fact that Lightning didn’t want to deal with Fang Yun, and that letting the woman so close after last night’s near-disaster would be a terrible idea.

Fang yawned and stretched, but those green eyes cut towards Lightning, challengingly. “And if I say you got no real authority over me, Sunshine?”

Lightning was silent, praying to Bahamut or the eidolons or even _Golbez_ for the patience to deal with this incessant thorn in her side. She’d given Fang the chance to go quietly, and now Lightning had little choice but to throw her in the hold for the rest of the journey. It was a show of power, certainly, but something told Lightning that she needed to draw a firm line against this Fang Yun.

At least a day in the hold would put the arrogant dragoon in her place, for a while.

Fang’s lips twitched into a smile as Lightning reached behind her for Zantetsuken and Zanmato, and she shrugged expressively. “Hey, I thought you were meant to be well-informed. I’m the idiot that Dysley roped into leading the Dragoon division, so I’d appreciate it if you’d just cut the lieutenant crap.” That irritating grin widened. “Captain Villiers is the one in charge, not you.”

So it was going to be like that, then. The woman was right, Lightning wouldn’t be able to simply throw Fang in the hold like any old Wingman. For this mission, as Dysley’s appointed representative, Fang was on Lightning’s level. Tch. It was a pity.

“If that’s all you’ve got to say, then leave already. I’m busy.” Lightning turned away from Fang sharply, striding over to where Sazh had stored that day’s aircharts and snapping it up to her face. She didn’t want to even think about last night – that stupid drinking game or this Fang Yun, and she certainly didn’t want to think about Snow and Serah being together.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Snow, who was looking uneasy as he threw the weight of his command around the airship. No. He was not the right man for Serah, and it would be a frozen day in the Feymarch when Lightning let him marry her sister.

Fang hadn’t left her in peace, though, and merely raised her eyebrows.

“If you’re trying to convince me you’re busy, try holding the airchart up the right way,” Fang said, her voice dry and amused as Lightning’s grip reflexively tightened on the paper chart.

“What exactly do you want, Dragoon?” Lightning asked, grimacing and lowering the aircharts. She’d been busted, though she had to admit that she hadn’t exactly been trying. She’d been too distracted, by Snow and Serah and how very unhappy she was to have learned about them.

“An interesting question, but I’ll keep it simple, for now.” Fang smiled, spreading her hands and leaning, backwards, against the railings of the _Bodhum._ “I watched you do the prep this morning, and I gotta say. You’re acting like some skittish cadet going to her first skirmish.”

Fang must have sensed her dark scowl, because she raised a placating hand.

“I kinda think you need to hear it, no matter how _perfect_ and _disciplined_ you seem to believe yourself to be. Get your head in the game, alright, Sunshine? All these men, and me, are gonna be depending on you to keep it cool, so buck up and swallow your meds already – or whatever it is that’s ticked you off, anyhow.”

Lightning exhaled sharply, turning her back on Fang. “That is _First Lieutenant._ And are you quite finished, Dragoon?”

Fang had a point, though. From that insufferable smile on her lips, she knew it, too.

Lightning’s confrontation with Jihl must have set her on edge, even more so than normal. She knew she needed to stop stewing over what she’d learned about Snow and Serah, because dealing with that mess would have to wait until they were home again. She already knew this. Why did she keep dwelling on it? Her jaw tightened.

The dragoon chuckled at Lightning’s abrupt dismissal, crossing her arms in front of her chest and leaning back precariously against the railings again. “I do happen to possess a name, you know. Fang Yun, squad leader of the Dragoon division on this here flight.”

Fang offered Lightning one of her hands. Lightning ignored the Damcyan-style gesture, and restarted her in-flight preparations. When it was clear that Fang wasn’t intending on moving, Lightning sighed.

“I already know who you are. And I told you. I’m busy,” she told the Dragoon over her shoulder, making it very clear that their little ‘conversation’ ended right then and there.

Oddly, though, Fang was smiling as she left.

As Lightning rechecked the calibrations on the maelstrom cannons, she discretely kept an eye on the way Fang interacted with her dragoon squad. The way she ran them through their battle plans, contingencies and through a few wind-kata, Lightning had to admit it. Fang Yun was a thorough and demanding squad leader, and any who fell short of her expectations received the rough side of her tongue and a solid rap on their visors.

It was interesting, Lightning noted as she turned back to her calibrations, that someone so laid-back could be such a severe commander. Maybe the woman wasn’t as huge an idiot as Lightning had imagined, after all.

###

They’d been gone from Baron almost three hours, and crystal-blue oceans stretched out for as far as Snow’s eyes could see. A beautiful sight, he supposed, but it wasn’t exactly interesting to look at for those three hours gone. The journey had never been easy for him to handle as a cadet, and now that he was the Captain, he still hated it with a passion. He’d always wanted to get to where they were going, and beat up the bad guys already.

Back before Highwind’s death, Lightning had sometimes taken the time to entertain him. Conversations, reminding him of what tasks he’d been assigned, drills, even arm wrestling – they’d all been things they’d done in the name of boredom. But things had changed, sometime in the past year. She was far too busy to babysit him now, she’d claim, and then give him one of those very scornful frowns. Amazing how it could be so effective, even though he could only see the lower half of her face.

She’d sure gotten grimmer recently, _that_ Snow was dead-certain of.

All the standard preparations had been completed and his squad leaders knew what was expected of them. So, since Lightning had become as much fun as a wet cat, it was up to him to find something to do.

Snow restlessly pounded one of his fists into his open palm, as he took in the _Bodhum’s_ deck again, before frowning. There was a silver-haired woman running diagnostics for one of the thrusters, wearing a Red Wings uniform and a very intense look on her face. Huh, he didn’t remember that woman ever being in the crew before, and Snow liked to believe that he was good with names. The times when he wasn’t sober didn’t count. Eblan rice wine could do some strange things to a man’s brain.

Making his way quickly over to the woman, Snow remarked, “You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you on the _Bodhum,_ before.”

Of course, chatting to the navigation crew wouldn’t have been what Lightning would consider as ‘keeping himself busy’, but he quickly reminded himself that he was the Captain and he was meant to make the rules, damnit! If he wanted to get to know his crew, then, that’s what he’d do. No shame in that, he reassured himself as the older woman looked up, looking slightly surprised by his question.

Well, he supposed that being addressed by the Lord Captain of the Red Wings wasn’t something that happened all the time, but it wasn’t _that_ strange.

“I’m usually stationed under Yaag Rosch, so I understand why you wouldn’t really recognize me, Captain,” the woman said finally, smiling slightly as she nodded to him. The reaction seemed encouraging enough, so Snow leaned, backwards, against the nearby railings.

“Ha, I thought my memory was failing me, for a moment. So if you’re normally on the _Eden,_ then what brings you to the _Bodhum?_ Sure can’t be the company.”

Snow looked pointedly towards the port side of the _Bodhum,_ to where his First Lieutenant was loudly lecturing a member of Sazh’s navigation crew. He caught snatches of the conversation on the wind, such as the words ‘moron’, ‘foolhardy’ and ‘dangerous’, and winced. Lightning was in rare form today, if she was giving the man a pull-through about _knots._

Nora laughed, as she adjusted the strength of the airship’s thrusters in accordance to one of the aircharts Sazh and Lightning had drawn up that morning.

“Sazh offered me a better-paying position in his crew, so obviously I accepted.” She paused, looking down at the creased papers in her hands again, before rising smoothly to her feet. “I’ve got a son back home, and since my husband’s death I’ve had a difficult task of keeping him fed and educated. He wants to study White Magic in Mysidia, and one day, I hope that’s possible.”

Snow closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the wind gusting through his hair and whipping his coat about. “Sounds like a great dream. How old is he?”

“Fourteen, in the month just passed. He’s a good boy, and I know that he’ll go the distance.”

Huh. Fourteen? It was just shy of Snow’s age, on that fateful that he’d decided on _his_ dream. Once again, he looked over to where Lightning was stationed, wondering if his lieutenant would even remember that miserable afternoon.

It had been just after another battle against the forest imps, back during the Forest Imp Uprising. Lightning – she’d been Claire back then, he silently amended – had baited him into going out an ‘examining’ the battlefield, and that had been when they’d been dragged into the forest by the remaining imps. He’d been certain that he’d die that day, but then, like some sort of hero right out of legend, King Cecil had come and saved their necks.

It was then, looking up at the imposing but oddly gentle paladin, that Snow had decided that he wanted to become a legend, a real hero. Just like the paladin-king who’d saved his life.

“So, what do they call you?” Snow asked, opening his eyes and looking at the woman.

The silver-haired woman smiled, and saluting him sharply. “Nora Estheim. It’s an honour to work with you, Captain Villiers.”

Snow chuckled ruefully, answering her salute a little reluctantly. “You’d have to be the first to think that.”

“Even so, I still believe that you can get us through – whatever the future throws at us. There’s something about you that makes me certain of it.” Her expression became a little more serious, before she laid a hand on his armoured forearm. It was a very motherly gesture.

“Must be sheer awesome and the never-say-die attitude. Gets people every time!” But no matter his bravado, his grin felt forced, and he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly when she just laughed. “It’s been nice talking with you, Estheim, but I’m afraid that I’m gonna have to take my leave…”

As Snow made his way from Nora, to where Lightning was now arguing with _Sazh_ of all people – the woman didn’t have an easy-going bone left in her body, Snow realized with a groan – he had to say it. This Nora woman seemed to have a lot of faith in Snow’s ability to lead the Red Wings to victory, instead of believing him to be just another figurehead Captain.

It was refreshing and humbling, all at the one time, and that respect made Snow wish for more of the same.

 _I promise, Nora, that faith’s not gonna be in vain. I’ll prove my worth, as a Captain, and one day I’ll be a legend. Just like Cecil, and just like Old Highwind._

###

Hours had passed, and the sun was now low in the sky. The rest of the Red Wings soldiers had been fed and had been sent to prepare for their landing at Mount Ordeals, but the facts surrounding their mission still weighed heavily on Lightning’s mind. Leaning over the _Bodhum’s_ railings as she watched the township of Mysidia approach, she wondered. The issues she’d raised to Snow, after learning of their mission from the King, had been serious ones.

If she squinted and raised her visor, she could see the murky mountain in the distant, dark against the golden light of the setting sun. A true holy place, if the general populace could be believed.

The fact was, that Mount Ordeals was the source of the paladins in this world. It had been there that Cecil Harvey had changed from being a wretched Dark Knight and into a world’s saviour. The shrine atop that mountain was an icon for an entire generation, and was a symbol of humanity’s strength and perseverance against Zeromus. The fact that hordes of monsters were gathering there sat uneasily on her shoulders, and that feeling had only grown stronger as the day had worn on.

 _Why Mount Ordeals? Is it being targeted on purpose?_

But Snow’s quick dismissal of her concerns had made it clear that he considered them to be a non-issue, and so Lightning had remained silent. She sighed, wishing she’d pressed him to further consider the implications. If Mount Ordeals was targeted and subsequently destroyed, there would _be_ no more paladins. And if there came another Lunar Crisis, then…

“Ah, Mysidia. Nice to be back home, even if just for an instant,” Fang’s voice sounded from behind her, and Lightning silently groaned as she snapped her visor back down. She idly wondered if it was possible for an individual to be as consistently frustrating as the dragoon squad leader, and if anybody would notice if she threw the woman overboard. Though considering how high the dragoons normally jumped, Lightning doubted the fall would kill her.

Not turning to face her latest irritant – for a relatively new dragoon, Fang certainly had some gall to address her so familiarly – Lightning snapped, “I thought I told you I was too busy to stand around and chat with you.”

Never one to be put off by harsh words and killing intent, Fang just grinned at Lightning’s annoyance and leaned on the rail next to her.

“Sure you did,” the dragoon agreed, actually sounding pleasant for a change. “But you’ve been staring into space for the last ten minutes, so I figured that you might be in need of a bit of a reviver.”

And with that, Fang unceremoniously shoved a cup of water at Lightning. Lightning heard her curse as a small amount slopped over the sides and onto the dark gauntlets, as the Dark Knight had no choice but to hastily accept the cup. A large chunk of bread followed, and Lightning looked down at the food with a slightly bemused expression.

“I’m not hungry, Dragoon,” she told Fang, feeling slightly exasperated by the dragoon’s gesture. She had far too much on her mind to just stop and eat, there was far too much to check and consider and delegate -

Fang shrugged, but those green eyes slyly cut towards Lightning. She tapped her chin, thoughtfully. “Hm. Gotta keep your strength up, can’t have you fading on us at a crucial moment. Right?”

Lightning was about to argue the point, but as if roused by the sudden presence of food and water, her stomach rumbled. It was loud enough to make her wince.

 _Damn it all._

“Classy,” Fang said, and her expression was insufferably smug about her ‘victory’. “I know you’re tryin’ to act all tough-like for my sake, but _really.”_

Lightning laughed, a small and reluctant sound, as she removed her dark helm. They were silent as Lightning quickly finished off the food, watching Mysidia pass underneath them as they continued their journey towards Mount Ordeals. There were still no sign of this so-called monster horde, and a part of Lightning wondered if they could relax. Perhaps the monsters had split up, and that there was no horde anymore.

The feeling of anxiety in her stomach only increased, and Lightning scowled. No, she couldn’t afford to let her guard down, no matter how safe things were looking.

Fang sighed as she watched Mysidia fade into the distance again, running her gloved hand through her hair restlessly. Lightning glanced at her, nodding for Fang to speak freely. Of all times, now Fang was going to adhere to military regulations? After the absurd nicknames, the insults and the flirting? The woman was an odd one.

“Got a sister back home, studying to be a black mage,” Fang told her, slowly, but the expression in her green eyes seemed softer now. “She’s real sharp with the status magic and the theory, and I know she’s gonna go far.”

Lightning made a small sound of agreement. “Mysidians usually do have strong magic – that’s probably why many of them chose to stay and train there. There’s no need to leave.”

She hesitated, unsure if she should ask the obvious question. Why would a Mysidian chose to serve in Baron’s military, when she could have stayed home and learned the town’s trademark magic from the Elders? Fang seemed to have sensed her unasked questions, because those green eyes were sly again.

“Couldn’t resist ‘chatting’ to me, I see. Maybe the icy First Lieutenant Farron is human, after all?” the dragoon asked, grinning. “Well, I guess I was never any good at all that finicky magical crap, except for _maybe_ a few select topics.”

 _Vague,_ Lightning noted, as she watched Fang pause to consider her words. _A few select areas of magic is better than no magic at all._

She cast her mind back, considering everything she knew about Fang’s combat style, but she couldn’t recall any outstanding differences between Fang and the next generic dragoon. It hardly mattered, though.

Fang was continuing though, and Lightning forced herself to pay attention.

“I never minded stabbing shit with spears when I was younger, so going to Baron and training as a dragoon seemed like the obvious answer. Kain Highwind inspired a lot of people.” Those pale, green eyes flickered up to meet Lightning’s, and then the woman added with a meaningful look, “Same with Cecil Harvey, if the Dark Knight get-up is any indication.”

Lightning carefully ignored the obligatory jab at her profession. “The Red Wings is the world’s most extensive defense force, and its peace-keeper. The shield that will defend us against both the known and the unknown. That’s what King Cecil wanted when he recreated us, and that’s what King Ceodore continues.”

She heard Sazh yelling something to one of the crewmembers nearby, but it all seemed so peripheral now. Between the feeling of tenseness between her shoulder blades, the anxiety strangling her heart and her conversation with Fang, none of anything seemed real. She shook her head quickly, trying to clear the creeping sensation.

To her right, Fang looked thoughtful as she straightened, pushing herself back from the railings and crossing her arms against her chest. The light from the setting sun caught on the golden tribal markings on her blue armour, made her eyes seem like a far more vibrant shade of green than they actually were.

“So, I told you my deal.” The dragoon’s eyes were deadly serious. “But I gotta say, I’m more interested in hearing _your_ story, Light.”

Lightning cursed softly. Why did it always come back to that, with everyone she talked to?

“That’s _Lieutenant Farron,_ Dragoon,” she reminded Fang, scowling, more than eager to remind the dragoon of her rank and the distance that was meant to be between them.

“Whatever you want.” Fang gave a flippant wave, as if the motion could defuse Lightning’s anger. “What in Bahamut’s name would make a woman like you, use up her own life span to gain a little extra power? It’s barmy, if I’m gonna be honest.”

“I don’t recall asking for your _honesty,_ and this isn’t a topic that’s up for discussion.” Lightning’s voice was flat. There was no need to ask her _why_ she’d become a Dark Knight, because as far as everyone else was concerned, she just _was._ It was her choice, and why the hell was everyone so caught up about it? Serah, Kain, the King, Snow, the rest of Baron and now Fang?

Fang seemed to have gotten the message, because that confrontational look in her eyes had vanished. “Shame, that. Was just tryin’ to get to know you a little, no need to get nasty.”

Sunlight was beginning to fade, and the sun was just a wedge of red on the horizon. It washed everything in crimson light now, and it seemed almost… threatening. Lightning’s feelings of tenseness and anxiety skyrocketed with every passing moment, and she swallowed uneasily. To her right, Fang was still leaning against the rails. She hadn’t left, yet, and was watching the sun set. Was she feeling as odd as Lightning was?

As the last sliver of the sun went down, Lightning felt a jolt run through her, and suddenly she was on one knee, staggering and dazed. Sweat ran down her cheek and beaded at her temple, and every fiber in her was screaming _fight or be killed._ She could feel her breath coming hard, and there was an electrifying current in the air –

Fang’s fingers were twisted in her red scarf as the dragoon hauled her to her feet, backhanding her across the face.

And with that, Lightning snapped to, blinking back the dizziness until it was just a memory. Her cheek stung and she could taste blood – sensation seemed to have returned. Fang’s hand was still buried in the scarf at her throat, but the relief in the other woman’s eyes was palpable.

“You still with us?” Fang asked quietly, and after a moment’s hesitation, Lightning pushed her hand away.

“I’m fine,” she rasped out. No need to dwell on it – whatever _it_ had been. As she looked over Fang’s shoulder, out towards the approaching shadow of Mount Ordeals, her mind froze, her previous weakness suddenly forgotten.

It was a sea of monsters, there was no other word for it. Warped, twisting and disgustingly red under the growing light of the two moons, _this_ was the horde that the Red Wings had received reports of. The lands before Mount Ordeals seemed to writhe with them, and even as her eyes desperately followed them, the existing monsters split in half to become two, only to latch onto another and devour, _fuse_ with it, over and over in a cycle that was as fascinating as it was sickening.

Fang’s eyes had followed hers, and Lightning heard the distinct sound of the dragoon gagging. And Fang wasn’t the only one who’d just noticed the monsters – the screams of horror and confusion had begun around them, from airship navigators and wingmen alike. It was like nothing they’d ever seen before, Lightning realized as she watched the growing chaos around them. Even during the last two Lunar Crises…

A shudder ran through her, and Lightning fought the dizziness again. Ripping Fang’s dragoon helm from where it hung on the woman’s belt, she roughly shoved it into Fang’s gloved hands. The dragoon caught it mechanically, meeting Lightning’s eyes with a look that spoke of bubbling hysteria. Lightning couldn’t blame her. Bahamut, even Captain Highwind would have recoiled at the sight of it…

“Helmet _on,_ Yun,” Lightning commanded her firmly, still trying to banish the last dregs of sluggishness from her mind. She had to step up and lead, even if the sight of those monsters scared her as much as the most inexperienced cadet. That was her job.

“Who are you? My ma?” Fang asked hoarsely, but in spite of her smart comment, her expression still looked ill. She seemed rooted to the spot, transfixed by the sight of Mount Ordeals engulfed by hell. Scared for her home and her family in Mysidia, Lightning realized. In this battle, there was a lot on the line for Fang. If the Red Wings failed to contain the situation, Mysidia would die with them. That much Lightning was sure of.

 _Even in my most generous calculations, I never expected something like this…_

Lightning cursed, shoving Fang in the shoulder to get her attention.

“Rally your troops, and I want you to get the men back in order. I need to get Captain Villiers.” Lightning paused, meeting the other woman’s eyes. She felt compelled to tell the truth to Fang, even if it was an acknowledgement of her failures as a lieutenant. “This is… bad. I didn’t plan for anything of this scale.”

Just a mob of monsters, out of the way of Mysidia and not far from Mount Ordeals. That had been the mission King Ceodore had given them, and that had been the mission she’d planned for.

“I know.” The admission seemed to galvanize Fang, because her green eyes were no longer afraid, but held a steely determination. Good. She wasn’t freezing any longer. “I got it covered. Just do your job, and I’ll do mine.”

As Lightning sprinted for the captain’s quarters, to alert Snow to the swarm of monsters that had just appeared from _nowhere,_ she heard Fang shouting orders to her dragoons. By the time she reached Snow’s door, he’d already heard the warning bells, and was roaring his commands to the Red Wings to land and deploy all wingmen divisions.

Her heart was pounding as she reached Snow’s side, and he shot her a fierce grin as she snapped down her helm.

“Hope you’re ready, Light, ‘cause we’re going in guns blazing. We got this.”

She nodded, drawing Zantesuken and Zanmato and wreathing both weapons with dark fire. No holding back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you totally don’t get kudos if you guess what’s going to happen to Nora, because blatant plot device is blatant and as FFXIII fans you should know this already. ;p But anyhow, next chapter is devoted to the battle, which I must say goes pretty grand-scale. I don’t get many chances to do epic battles of armies, so let’s just hope I don’t botch it.
> 
> Several important things happened in this chapter, that will be very relevant later on, so can you guess what they were?

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: If anyone cares how I came up with the job classes for each of the Big Three (Light, Fang, Snow), plus more in-depth descriptions of who these alternates are, check this out [check this out](http://zerrat.livejournal.com/26982.html). Confused as to a term from FFIV, or just want a refresher? I’ve also posted a quick dossier there for FFIV/the After Years.


End file.
